Perks of being in show choir
by thunderwhenitrains
Summary: This was prompted by (and thus is dedicated to) cold kagome, who wanted a long one-shot with diva!kurt and Dalton!badboy!Blaine. Kurt's a sassy diva. Puck is his best friend. Blaine is kind of a rebel. They meet at Sectionals.


**Hey. So, this was cold kagome's prompt. I don't know how it turned out in the end, but I hope it's okay.**

**Also, disregard the canon season elements, because they're all mixed up.**

**Warning for some swearing.**

"Honestly, Puck, how the hell do you not know how to do your tie?" Kurt asked huffily as he deftly did a Windsor knot on the Mohawk-ed boy's tie.

"Dude, it's not like it's a life skill or anything", Puck whined as Kurt straightened his lapels.

"It_ is _a life skill. You just don't know it yet. How will you manage on your wedding?" Kurt questioned, raising an eyebrow as he moved to help Mike with his shirt buttons.

Puck snorted, "I'm not getting married, Dude."

Kurt gave him an all-knowing look, "You say that now. When you _do _get married, I demand to be your best man, and that you give me fifty dollars. It's a bet."

"You're on, man", Puck said confidently.

"Boys! Why aren't you ready yet?", demanded a shrill, loud voice.

"Keep your panties on, Rachel, we're almost done. And need I remind you that the competition isn't for two hours?" Kurt drawled from his place in front of the mirror, making sure his hair hadn't moved from its perfect coif.

"We need to warm up! Honestly, with such levels of incompetency, I'm not surprised we didn't win Nationals last year", Rachel sniffed, glaring at the back of Kurt's head.

"Berry, we didn't win last year because you decided to suck face with my brother on stage. While I understand passion, even you have to admit that was unprofessional. Now get out. I believe this is the boys' green room. Just because you have possession of Finn's balls, it doesn't mean you qualify for the category", Kurt threw her way, smirking proudly when she sputtered indignantly and blushed bright red, muttering something under her breath as she hurried out.

Puck chuckled from behind him, "I will never get tired of seeing you put her in her place, Dude. Seriously, that was badass."

"If we didn't have these weekly slash daily bitch-offs, I don't think I could survive in the choir room, what with her ego taking up most of the space. Purely survival mechanism", Kurt said, giving himself a critical once-over.

"Well, whatever it is, keep doing it. And dude, move away from the mirror now. You look great."

Kurt raised an elegant eyebrow at him. "And why exactly would I trust your opinion?" he said.

Puck shrugged. "Man, I know when someone looks good. And I'm comfortable enough in my sexuality to say that if I were a gay dude, I would totally go for you. You look _hot_."

Despite Kurt's greatest efforts not to, he still blushed at Puck's words. Kurt was confident in several things, but his body and his face were not included in that list.

Kurt sighed, trying to play it casual. "Thank you? I guess we should go now. We really _will _be late if we don't, and I don't want to hear what Rachel Berry will say then."

888

"Blaine, if you don't get back in fifteen minutes, I'm taking away your solo", Wes Montgomery said authoritatively in another green room.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Take the stick out of your ass, Wes. If you don't remember, I didn't ask for it. And even if you do take it away, who's going to sing in my place?"

Blaine didn't wait for Wes's retort as he walked out smoothly, trying to find someplace where he could get away from all the noise.

Looking back on all the things he'd experienced, he figured this point of his life was the best. Sure, the rest of the Warblers were uptight when it came to show-choir, but otherwise, they never judged him, never tried to question the fact that he had multiple scars on his arms and one beneath his year, never tried to pry into his past, never looked down on him for being the delinquent he was. Dalton Academy was good for him. He guessed that was one thing his old man had gotten right. Of course, his intentions hadn't been pure-only expecting to get rid of him for the rest of his minority-so there was no way in hell he was going to walk up to the rat-faced bastard and thank him. But credit was due. And he would acknowledge it in his mind.

One other thing about Dalton was that he never had to see Jim Anderson if he didn't want to.

He could do whatever he wanted, as long as it wasn't explicitly forbidden in the rulebook-that was an actual thing here, hardbound, blue like the blazer he was forced to wear, and the edges the deep red of the lapels; the rulebook was the first thing any student of Dalton received on his first day.

He could play pranks on the teachers, leaving no evidence and finding loopholes in the rules. He could walk around with his tongue piercing-which he was proud of, thank you very much-and no one could say anything because the rulebook never said anything about piercings. Then again, that was probably due to the fact that the founders-the pictures of whom lined the walls of Dalton hallways-had not foreseen that a juvenile delinquent would be attending their school.

He wasn't stupid enough to think that the reason they'd accepted him because of his flawless grades-ones which he maintained due to his frequent absence in class. He knew his father's enormous pay-check had played a crucial role in his acceptance.

But he wasn't going to waste any time worrying about that. At Dalton, he was fine. He had some really great friends there-the aforementioned Wes Montgomery was one of them. He knew they would have his back if he was in any trouble. Wes just tended to turn into a gavel-wielding Godzilla when it came to competition. He was sure that one of these days, they wouldn't be able to perform at a competition due to the fact that they would all be busy rushing Wes to a hospital in an ambulance because he'd had an aneurism due to all the self-inflicted pressure.

He snorted at the mental image of Wes in a hospital bed, waving his gavel around (because, mind you, he would take that thing to his grave) reprimanding them all for forfeiting the competition.

He leaned against a wall, looking around the place. Most of it was deserted, because almost all the teams were in their respective green rooms, rehearsing-which he ought to be doing, too. He was never one to conform, though. They would be fine without him. He was ninety nine percent sure that no other choir had practised as much as they had. Wes had made sure of that. There was nothing more they could do other than go on that stage and give it all they had.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a commotion further down the hall. He turned to look, and he would gladly admit that his heart stopped.

There was a boy-if you could even call him that. He looked like an angel-definitely not human. Although, the angel image was ruined by his tight black jeans, and his fitted blue shirt.

He looked like sex on a stick.

He wanted to pin the boy to the nearest wall and ravish his mouth; he wanted to tangle his fingers in the boy's hair to keep him in place while he had his way with him (okay, so maybe he had a thing for control, but everyone had their kinks).

The boy didn't seem to notice him, though, even as Blaine blatantly eye-fucked him.

But then he looked his way and Blaine took in a sharp inhale of air.

The boy's eyes were beautiful. Gorgeous. He had no idea how to describe them. He was pretty sure there was a word for it-that enchanting mixture of green, blue and grey-he could ask Wes or Thad, and they could have told him in an instant. But right now he couldn't bother as he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.

For so long, he'd acted as this sexual being. He'd pretended that the only things he could feel were anger and sexual desire. And for a long time, that was true as well. But since he'd come to Dalton, he'd started coming back to his old self.

No one had quite entranced him before, though.

Blaine was astonished when the boy started walking towards him. He quickly composed himself, though. He knew he was attractive-he'd had tons of booty calls to prove it.

But from the looks of things, the boy didn't seem like he was coming over to ask Blaine if he wanted to get out of here.

As he reached Blaine, he cleared his throat and held out his hand.

"I'm Kurt Hummel", was the introduction, and Blaine almost froze. The voice was heavenly. God, was there anything about this guy that wasn't divine?

Blaine remembered quickly to maintain his cool demeanour. He smirked and shook the boy's hand firmly.

"Blaine Anderson, but you can call me whatever you want, babe", he said in his most flirtatious tone, leaning against the wall with his side while watching the boy with his head tilted.

Blaine caught a flicker of something like shock in the boy's-Kurt's-eyes at his words, but it was quickly covered up by a bored roll of his eyes.

"As shocking as it might seem to you, I'm not here to offer myself to you. I was just wondering if you'd seen our show choir director around. He has curly hair, with a lot of product in it, and he was wearing a sweater vest". Kurt looked hopefully at him.

Blaine grinned widely, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "What- don't tell me you've lost him? Gorgeous, the competition's about to begin", Blaine informed cockily.

Kurt scoffed. "You don't think I know that?" he asked impatiently. "Look, have you seen him or not?"

"Afraid not, babe", Blaine said, more than a little amused by Kurt's behaviour, and the situation he seemed to be in. "But what do you say we ditch the director and have a little rendezvous in the storage room? I'll wash away all your worries, sweetheart."

Kurt glared at him, seeming disappointed at the answer, and he muttered something under his breath about someone named Rachel, and turned to go. Blaine panicked.

"Hey, gorgeous! wait!" He didn't know what the hell he was doing, but he called out anyway.

"What is it?" Kurt asked irritably. Blaine thought it was adorable.

"What group are you from?" he asked, looking for some reason to make Kurt stay. He wasn't ready to say goodbye just yet.

Kurt looked suspiciously at him, and he gave him his best "I'm an innocent puppy" look.

"New Directions", he supplied, still looking at him warily.

Blaine tried not to laugh. He really did. He couldn't help it, though, as he burst out laughing loudly, attracting the attention of the saleswoman at the refreshment counter.

Kurt looked murderous now. He gritted his teeth, and opened his mouth to say something most likely insulting, but Blaine beat him to it.

"Nude Erections? Babe, last time I checked, this was a show choir competition, not a bad soft core porno. Really; who names their show choir after the male anatomy?" Blaine teased ruthlessly, still laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face.

"Listen here, you moron", came a rough growl that, when Blaine finally straightened up, he realized was coming from Kurt. When he had Blaine's attention, he continued, still glaring at him so hard he had to admit it was kind of scary. "I don't know what the fuck is wrong with your sex-crazed brain that you don't even have the sense of mind to talk politely to a stranger, but the name of our show choir is New Directions. Do you want me to spell it out for you? N-E-W D-I-R-E-C-T-I-O-N-S. And who the hell are you to judge us? I promise you we're ten times better than you prep school kids are. And when I sing that solo and we win, crushing you to the damn underworld, I'm going to laugh. Hard. Let's see how your humungous ego and disgusting pick-up lines look then", Kurt snarled and then pivoted on his heel, walking away swiftly, not looking back once."

"Huh", was all Blaine could manage. Kurt was scary when he wanted to be.

But they'd see who won.

888

"Hey, dude, where the fuck have you been?" Puck whispered as Kurt took his seat next to him in the audience. New Directions had pulled the last slot, and they'd be watching the other choirs' performances before they'd perform. One the one hand, this could be good, as they could bring the house down. One the other, though, the previous choirs might set the bar high, and they might not be able to meet it. Kurt tried to shake the negative thought from his mind as soon as it entered, and turned to Puck to answer him in an equally hushed voice.

"I went looking for Schuster."'

Puck looked at him with a confused frown pulling at his forehead. "Wait, he wasn't there? But you told Berry you'd seen him outside the green room."

Kurt gave him a look, which basically translated to 'Duh'.

"Puck, if I hadn't told her that, Yentl over there would have freaked out on all our asses. I only said that to calm her down. It turns out Schuster was outside, talking to Rachel's mom."

Puck stared at him incredulously, "Wait, Shelby? I thought she'd left Lima."

"She did", Kurt told him, "apparently there's something going on there. Seriously, what the fuck is it with him?"

"So he ditched us so he could go have a romantic meeting with another director?" Puck demanded.

"Yeah. But I got him to come back. I was worried another Dustin Goolsby incident would occur, and that the two of them might run away to coach Vocal Adrenaline together, or something equally as William Schuster-esque."

"Where is he now?" Puck asked.

"In one of the back seats. You can't see him from here", Kurt told him, settling fully into his seat just as the announcer reached the end of the next introduction.

"-demy Warblers!" A loud round of applause filled the auditorium. Kurt joined in apprehensively, knowing that the ridiculously attractive douche-bag he'd met was part of this choir.

As the curtain lifted, Kurt ruthlessly squashed down the urge to seek out the boy-'_Blaine'_, a voice in his head reminded. Kurt wondered if there was a way to flip off your own mind.

It turned out Kurt didn't have to seek him out, though, because as soon as the harmony started and the uniform-clad boys turned around to face the audience in perfect sync, the spotlight sought him out for Kurt.

He was in front of the group, a small step further than the rest, leading them effortlessly and subtly through top forty songs.

_Hey, soul sister_

_Ain't that Mister_ _Mister on the _

_Radio, Stereo, _

_The way you move ain't fair, you know_

Kurt had to admit they sounded pretty good, even though he absolutely hated that song with a passion. He didn't see the appeal, really, and it usually grated on his nerves. The Warblers' sound, though-any performer would have to admit they were good.

Kurt watched as the group received the applause, Blaine standing tall (purely a figure of speech), grinning from ear to ear, visibly high on adrenalin, and Kurt noticed that this smile was completely different from the smirk he'd put on back in the hallway. This one was genuine, and Kurt felt a tug of affection in his chest-one which he resolutely refused to acknowledge.

The group eased into another song, which Kurt guessed was their last one.

_I am in misery_

_There ain't nobody who can comfort me (oh yeah)_

_Why won't you answer me?_

_Your silence is slowly killing me (oh yeah)_

When they finished, Kurt's applause was genuine, and as Blaine looked around the audience from his spot on centre stage, Kurt swore he caught his eye. There was that smirk again.

Kurt's mind was about to go reeling, but it was stopped when his best friend pulled on his arm, urging him to get up, and Kurt locked eyes with the Mohawk-ed boy, his nerves finally begin to overwhelm him.

Puck seemed to sense his tension, and he kept a firm grip on Kurt's bicep as he guided him backstage. Then he leaned against a wall, looking at his watch and saying, "Okay, bro, we've got fifteen minutes until we're on, so I'll give you one minute to get everything out. Your time starts now. Go", he announced.

Kurt didn't even have the presence of mind to glare at him as he immediately blurted, "I'm nervous, Puck. Oh my God, I have a solo. I _have a solo._ God, I should have just let Rachel take it when she offered. I'll forget the lyrics, Puck, and then I'll freeze because I don't know what to sing, and fuck, have you ever heard someone literally died on stage because of stage fright? Because that's what I'm going to do, Puck. I'll die", he finished miserably, breathing harshly.

Puck rolled his eyes and scoffed, telling him, "Kurt, you fought tooth and nail for this solo. I don't want to hear you ever saying something like 'I should have let Rachel take it' ever again. Am I clear?" he asked, glaring. Kurt nodded hesitantly after a moment. "And you practised it a million times. There's no way you'll forget the lyrics. You're a born performer, Kurt. So you're going to go on that stage, rock your solo, and after you win, you're going to fix a date with that short dude you were checking out." Puck snorted as Kurt gaped at him. "Dude, subtlety? Not your thing."

Kurt sighed. "Do you really think this will work?"

"I know it will, man. Now let's get to our places before Berry starts screeching like a banshee."

"Gladly", Kurt said, shuddering.

They took their places, and as the announcer introduced them, Puck sent Kurt a quick wink, making him relax into his position.

He could do this.

888

"We did great, fellow Warblers. I'm fully confident that we have this competition in the bag", Wes said after their performance, while David made faces behind his back. Blaine snorted when David stuck his tongue out. Wes didn't notice a thing.

There were the warning lights flickering above them, all of a sudden, and Wes stated the obvious by telling them that the last choir was about to perform. Blaine felt a surge of excitement. He knew the angel-Kurt, was in this choir, the Nude Erections (okay, so maybe he knew the name now, but this was funnier). Blaine tried to remain casual as the rest of the Warblers filed out, leaving behind only Wes, David and him. Despite all his sarcastic remarks about them, they really were his best friends, and the three of them walked at a slower pace than the rest, Blaine with his hands in his pockets.

"Blaine, I still haven't forgiven you for disappearing off before the competition."

Blaine rolled his eyes at Wes. "Yeah, Wes, keep holding a grudge. It's not like you guys went through a hell of suffering, or something. Besides, it was completely worth it."

"What did you even do?" David inquired idly, his eyes on his phone, where he was probably texting his girlfriend, Amanda. Those two were sickeningly sweet. They were one of those couples that were practically joined at the hip. But Blaine had a soft spot for them-all their talk about going to LA and moving in together was actually really heart-warming; Blaine didn't say so, of course, but it was the truth. And Wes and David didn't need him to physically say the words-they could read him better than a children's book.

"I met someone", Blaine said simply, but his voice was far too breathless and dreamy for him to feel comfortable. He just hoped his friends hadn't noticed it.

But of course they had. David almost dropped his phone in shock, and Wes looked at him with a Cheshire Cat grin that was so creepy Blaine wanted to look away.

"Well, well, well", Wes began, throwing an arm around his shoulders on his right,and Blaine groaned in frustration. He hated it when those two got in sync.

"Look what we have here", David continued effortlessly, mirroring Wes's actions on his left side.

"Looks like Blainers here has found himself a-what's the word, David?"

David pretended to think, rubbing his chin with his free hand before he made a light bulb motion with his fingers, saying brightly, "I think the word is-is _crush_, Wes."

Wes gasped dramatically, and Blaine gritted his teeth. But he couldn't stop them. No one could when they got like this. "But no, David, you must be mistaken. Blaine Anderson, the bad boy of Dalton Academy, doesn't get _crushes. _It must be something else."

"Ah, yes. I forgot. The ever present and looming reputation. But still, it seems the signs all point to Blaine having a crush. The dreamy sigh-"

"-and the loss of breath-"

"-let's not forget the look in his eyes, Wes."

"Of course. All signs point to the fact that bad boy Blaine Anderson has met someone to _love. _It's science-when there are signs, follow them."

"That's not sci-" Blaine tried to interrupt, but they easily talked over him.

"But what might have been so interesting in a guy that invoked such a reaction from our friend, Wes?"

"Well, there's no way of knowing, is there? Unless Blaine here tells us himself." They both turned to Blaine with mischievous looks on their faces, and Blaine shook his head.

"No, guys, I'm not telling you."

"Like hell you're not", proclaimed David.

"We've been waiting for this for so long, Blaine. Who is it? We need to know."

Blaine thought it over. He really didn't want to share the details of his meeting. But he also knew that Wes and David wouldn't let him go that easily. They _would _pester him until A: he caved and told them, or B: he died. So he decided to go the easy way, and sighed in defeat.

"His name is-"There was a loud bell then, and Blaine didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved. Either way, Wes and David both gave him looks saying he would be grilled later.

They quickly made their way to their seats with the rest of the group, and Blaine waited eagerly. He knew Kurt had a solo. Of course, the Warblers would win, but he was sure Kurt had a beautiful voice, and he couldn't wait to hear it.

"Please welcome", came the booming voice of the announcer, who seemed to want to make this sound like a wrestling match, "from William McKinley High School in Lima, the New Directions". The announcer dragged out the 'New', making it sound all the more like the name Blaine had assumed it was earlier. He stifled a laugh, and got hit on the back of his head by Wes in reprimand. This was Warbler-mode Wes-the one that had a stick up his ass. Blaine didn't have time to roll his eyes before the curtain, lifted, and Blaine was caught in that beautiful trance again.

There, in the middle of the stage, by himself, was Kurt. He looked even more angelic under the spotlight, which was focused singularly on him. He closed his eyes for a moment, as the music started up.

Blaine had a moment of confusion, as he recognised it as one of the songs he liked from _Les Miserables. _He wondered how on earth Kurt would sing it, as he was sure this was a girl's song. It had some pretty high notes, if he remembered right.

Blaine didn't have too much time to ponder this, though, as he saw Kurt open his mouth to sing.

He waited on the edge of his seat.

And promptly stopped breathing as the first note resounded flawlessly across the hall.

_God, on high_

_Hear my prayer_

_In my need_

_You have always been there_

888

When Kurt chose this song, it was because the first time he sang it, it was with his mother.

It was also the last song he ever sang to his mother before she died, in the hospital, too weak to sing herself, hooked up to tons of machines.

Kurt had sung it through his tears, determined to make it as perfect as possible.

Shortly after he finished, Katherine Hummel had died.

This was the reason that when Kurt was offered a solo for Sectionals, he immediately chose this. It was a connection to his mother.

Every time he sang it, his heart clenched and warmed at the same time. This was the song he _had _to sing.

It was one thing he knew for _sure _Rachel Berry could never take away for him. He could never sing this song like he could. She could never relate to it the way he could. She could _never _master his mother's song. And he was determined to prove it to her.

Kurt kept looking steadily forward, closing his eyes in between, in the blinding lights. He thought of all the times he'd shared with his Mom. He remembered baking with her on Sundays. He remembered going to the park with her after school. He remembered hours of singing and dancing with her. He remembered making outfits together. He remembered the two of them teasing his Dad together. He remembered the way she would look at him and Dad when they did something particularly amusing. She always referred to them as "her boys". His mother was the reason he sang in front of people. She was the reason he could proudly be himself, no matter what some ignorant idiots said. She was his courage.

888

Blaine couldn't take his eyes off the stage. He didn't know what happened. Kurt's voice-it was _magnificent. _Beautiful past comparison. It held so much emotion-it made _him _want to cry. He knew his teammates were exchanging glances-some in awe, some in alarm (Wes qualified for both). Blaine was speechless. There was utter silence in the auditorium as everyone was held in place by Kurt's voice.

_If I die, let me die_

_Let him live_

_Bring him home_

_Bring him _

_Home_

888

Kurt finished, adrenalin coursing through him and for a split second, there was silence, making his mind go into panic mode.

Then suddenly, everyone was on their feet, applauding. Applauding for _him-_Kurt Hummel.

He had done it.

His eyes searched the crowd almost unconsciously, before landing on the group of Warblers. He met Blaine's eyes, expecting that same smirk from before, and shocked to see there was nothing but pure awe there, freezing him in place for a minute before he managed to look away.

He basked in the applause for a moment with a wide, disbelieving grin on his face before he bit his lip and bowed one more time, quietly moving into place for the next number. He stole a glance at Puck, who was wearing an equally as wide, proud grin, before starting up the harmonies of _Fly/I believe I can fly. _

He was feeling pretty good about himself today.

888

After the performance, Kurt and Puck walked backstage together, Kurt bouncing on his toes a little, and hurling himself into Puck's embrace as soon as they were in one of the less crowded places.

"Oh my god", Kurt laughed a bit hysterically, "Oh my _God, _Puck, I did it. Kurt Hummel did it."

"Yeah you did! Dude, that was amazing!" Puck said, and Kurt's excitement must have been contagious because Puck was grinning and laughing, too.

They heard the sound of a throat clearing, and they pulled apart to see none other than Rachel Berry staring at them.

"Hey, Jewish Princess", Puck greeted, because old habits do die hard, after all.

"Hello, Rachel", Kurt said, slightly thrown off by the fact that she wasn't yelling at them.

"Kurt", she began primly, "I have come here to say that, despite my doubts about you being able to handle a solo in front of a large crowd like I can, because not many are born with the combination of natural talent, charm and charisma that is required in every performer. Of course, I am one in a billion, and it was unfair to compare you to those stand-" Kurt coughed loudly, twice, startling her slightly and making her get back on track, "Yes, well, I believe what I'm trying to say is that your performance definitely brought the house down, and that I, um, I might have to consider giving you the opportunity for more solos in the future. Have a good day, boys", she finished, smiling awkwardly before walking away.

Kurt gaped after her slightly, before shaking himself out of it.

"Well, that was, um", he struggled to find an appropriate word.

"Apocalyptic?" Puck snorted.

"Yes, that works", Kurt said, smiling at him, before his gaze was drawn over his shoulder, where three boys in navy blazers were standing, their gaze trained on him and Puck.

"Um, can you excuse me for a minute, Noah?" he asked, his eyes not leaving the hazel eyes of the boy in between.

"What?" he asked perplexedly. He turned to look at Kurt's point of focus, and his lips turned up into a smirk at the sight of the "short dude". Kurt glared at him, tearing his gaze away from them.

"Well, what are you waiting for then? Just remember to use protection, because there's a really high chance of STDs for gay dudes", he teased, still smirking.

Kurt's face went bright red as he punched Puck in the arm. Hard. And the bastard laughed at him.

Kurt made his way to where Blaine and the two other Warblers were standing, rolling his eyes at Puck's antics, as Puck called out that he was going to find some girl to screw.

His lips twitched in a smile as he reached Blaine. Remembering his manners, he held his hand out first to the Asian boy and then to the African-American boy.

"Kurt Hummel", he introduced, and sending them a charming smile that could win anyone-male or female-over, he said, "Your performance was great."

The boys on either side of Blaine grinned at each other, while Blaine remained silent, watching Kurt with a soft smile.

"I'm Wes", said the Asian boy, "and that's David", he pointed to his friend, "and of course you know Blaine. And, you know, off the record, your performance was really damn amazing", he said earnestly.

"Well, thanks", Kurt said, blushing slightly, still unused to actually having other people acknowledge his talent. It seemed they weren't quite done, though, from Wes's next statement.

"Kurt, you're a countertenor. An actual, live countertenor. And an amazing one at that-your solo absolutely blew all of us away, and I'm su-", Wes cut himself off after glancing at Blaine from the corner of his eye. It looked like Blaine was trying to send some signal with his eyes, and soon enough, David said, "Well, I think we should go now. Wes and I are on the council-the Warblers are run by a student council, you see, so we need to be present in the greenroom in case anyone needs to discuss any Warbler-related matters. So we'll leave Blainers here, and we're going to go join Thad in our room. It was great to meet you, Kurt. Good luck on the results!" And before Kurt could reply, the two of them were gone.

Kurt was now very aware of Blaine's presence, and he somehow worked up the courage to look him directly in the eye, a blush settled high on his cheeks.

"Um, hi", he said lamely, making Blaine chuckle, but he maintained eye contact.

"Hi again, gorgeous", he said, watching him carefully, a small smile on his lips.

Kurt cleared his throat. "Okay, this-this is awkward. How about we begin again. I'm sorry for calling you a moron, even though you were kind of being a jackass", he said, biting his lip to keep from smiling too widely.

"Apology accepted, especially 'cause I deserved it. Um", Blaine replied, sobering up, "Your song, it was-it was beautiful". His voice was a whisper.

Kurt swallowed, blushing even harder, "Th-thanks. I really did like your performance", and then added, "even though I really hate _Hey Soul Sister._"

"Hey, it's a good song", Blaine defended playfully, making Kurt roll his eyes.

"It has no meaning, Blaine. It's trashy top 40."

"Whatever you say, Kurt", Blaine acquiesced. "So, um, who's the guy with the Mohawk?"

Kurt smiled fondly. "That's my best friend, Noah Puckerman. He likes to go by 'Puck', though."

Blaine sighed in relief. "Well, that's good", he said, making Kurt raise an eyebrow, "because I really want to take you out to dinner, and that would be really difficult if you already had a boyfriend."

"You want to take me out?" Kurt asked.

"Well, duh. I figured it was obvious. Oh, and by the way, my pick-up lines are amazing. Effective and amazing."

"Whatever you say. But I have one condition."

"What is it?" Blaine furrowed his brow in confusion.

"I'm paying. I was raised as a gentleman. I'm taking you to someplace nice-better than Breadstix in any case", Kurt said firmly.

Blaine laughed loudly. "Sure, babe. I'm definitely not complaining. But second date's on me", he declared.

"Presumptuous, aren't we?" Kurt teased, his eyes sparkling.

"I-"

"All competing teams, please take your places on the stage", came the announcement.

Blaine sighed in disappointment. "Give me your phone", he demanded suddenly.

"Why?" Kurt asked, drawing out the word in suspicion.

"Just give it to me, gorgeous."

Kurt blushed at the nickname, but handed it over. Blaine fiddled with the buttons for a moment, and then a soft 'ping' came from Blaine's pocket. Seeming satisfied, Blaine handed over the phone.

"What did you do?" Kurt asked.

"I gave you my number, and I have yours too. Expect frequent texts now", he warned.

Kurt snorted, shaking his head. "Okay. I'll, um, see you?"

"Yes, you will, beautiful. Now I believe we have results to hear. Though, after seeing you perform, we've all mostly let go of all hopes of winning. We'll gladly lose to talent like yours", he said, and then leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against Kurt's cheek, making the skin heat up, before turning back to join his team.

888

The New Directions won. The Warblers came second.

Kurt hugged Puck tightly immediately after they announced that they'd won. The Warblers, like Blaine had told him, mostly expected the loss, especially with Kurt's solo and the New Directions' choreography.

Kurt caught Blaine's eye as they walked up to get their trophy, getting a breathtaking smirk in return. As the Warblers filed out, Blaine held up his phone, mouthing 'I'll call you, babe'. Kurt nodded, watching him walk away before turning to his best friend.

"So, did you get your booty call?" Kurt asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"No", he sighed. "I didn't want to ruin today with cheap, meaningless sex. I asked Rachel out instead."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Going on that route again?"

"Yup. It was a nice route", he admitted, "What about you?"

"He stole my number and gave me his. I have a date for sometime this week."

"Good for you, bro."

"I know", he smiled, "I really rocked that solo."

"Yeah, you did". Puck grinned.


End file.
